


You Made A Slow Disaster Out Of Me

by lzcatalina



Series: I'll do what I can to be a confident wreck [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Car Sex, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Hand Jobs, Love/Hate, M/M, Top Harry, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzcatalina/pseuds/lzcatalina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of a sudden it was like all the sound and heat got sucked out of the car and they were floating in midair, burning stars just orbiting each other, or comets crashing into the sun. It was cataclysmic, like the end of the earth was hurtling towards them, and Louis slumped forward with a deep moan, his breath puffing out over Harry’s forehead, as he came so hard tiny stars exploded behind his vision and the earth swirled underneath his hands. Like Harry was the center of everything and gravity was pulling him down.</p><p>Louis was the king of illegal street racing who rarely lost, Harry was the newcomer who beat him in the first race and nearly ran him over. Fuck Harry Styles. (No seriously, could they have sex, please???? - right after they stopped screaming at each other in the frozen food would be nice, but he wasn't picky - the front seat of Banksy would work just fine.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Made A Slow Disaster Out Of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brainwaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainwaves/gifts).



> Thank you to everyone who held my hand through this the last few months, I appreciate you!
> 
> Brainwaves, I hope this is what you wanted, babe!
> 
> harryandlouisarehappilystrong@tumblr.com

You Made A Slow Disaster Out Of Me

“Get the fuck up. Hamilton road. 20 minutes.”

Louis Tomlinson jerked awake at the sound of Siri reading out his newest text. He reached for his phone under the pillow, making a baby pterodactyl screech when the bright light stunned his eyes. As soon as the words sunk into his sleep-addled brain, Louis’ scrambled off the bed in search of his loosest track pants and a t-shirt.

It was 3AM and he didn’t really give a damn to style his hair and look good, but he knew he should. His fans expected it by now. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and tried to style his hair in those gelled, artful fly-aways that looked effortless, but really took a bitch to work out.

He took a swig of orange juice out of the carton, grabbed a banana, and headed out the door, keys in hand. Once in the garage, he noticed Jaguar was missing, so Niall must already be down there. That just left him with O’Calla and Banksy, his restored Porsche 911 Carrera, to choose from. He tried to remember if Zayn told him who he’d be up against, but drew a blank. It didn’t occur to him to check his texts until an embarrassing amount of time of him just standing in his garage with his mouth hanging open had passed.

Hmmm. No one. Strange. Must be fresh blood. Good, that meant he had this in the bag.

With a yawn, he headed for Banksy’s sleek, shiny, black chrome with the absolutely gorgeous spray paint art covering her, courtesy of Zayn Malik himself. There were flowers, skulls, suns, and moons dusted all over his baby, and where most masculine as fuck thank you very much men such as himself would be embarrassed to be seen in a car like this, he was nothing but proud as a peacock for the passion Zayn has for his art. Even if it was illegal. But so was Louis’.

Masculine. He giggled to himself. Flamboyant and proud was more like it.

It didn’t matter who he was racing tonight, he’d win anyway. Probably. He was on a kick-ass winning streak lately, and the late hour wouldn’t change that, he was sure. He slipped into his car and backed out the driveway, marveling at the stillness and the quiet of the nighttime streets.

Banksy was smooth under his hands, the pedals responding to the slightest change in pressure just the way he liked. None of the gears stuck. He smiled. This was going to be easy. Like taking candy from a baby, only he wasn’t a monster, he was just really, really good at street racing, had been since he first learned to drive at fifteen.

When Louis crawled up the back alley, he saw a black sea of bodies, but everyone was uncharacteristically quiet. He suspected maybe it was almost getting arrested last Tuesday that had everyone on edge. Even the street lamps leading to the finish line were dark, but he knew Liam would have that fixed as soon as the flags dropped.

He wondered who the flagger was, hoped it was a blonde with a great ass he could dream about later, or take home for a post-win celebration. He fought a smile and a flash of heat in his belly. God, he needed to get laid.

As always before a race, he had this nervous, buzzing energy underneath his skin, and his hands kept twitching. He needed them to be steady. He swallowed the banana in six bites and got out of the car.

Quiet cheers went up when he emerged above the hood of his car. Oh. Okay. He expected a lot more fanfare. Like, he was about to smoke the poor sap opposite him, but whatever. He didn’t want to get arrested any more than they all did.

“Zaynie,” he cheered, pulling Zayn backwards into a fierce hug. Zayn molded himself to Louis’ chest and Louis puffed a breath into his ear. He smelled good, great, even. Fucking fantastic. Fantastically fuckable, whatever. God, he so needed to get laid.

Zayn spun around with a love-drunk smile, all tongue-pressed-against-his-teeth, and sharp cheekbones, and bright, bright eyes. He took Louis’ breath away most days. He was like a fucking god carved out of the stars. It was really fucking unfair, Louis thought, unfair on the rest of humanity that they will never shine as brightly as Zayn did.

Zayn buried his face in Louis’ neck and giggled and Louis rolled his eyes. Great, so he wasn’t just love-drunk, he was actually drunk. Where was Liam when he was needed? “Where’s Li?”

“I ‘unno. Off with Nialler, I ‘spect.”

Louis laughed against the black and red quiff half in his mouth. “Zayner, did you buy a dictionary tonight? Remember what we said about big words?”  
“Oi, fu’ off.” He shoved off of Louis’ chest, but flailed when he started to fall. Louis grabbed his hands and pulled him forward until he was steady again.  
“Hey, you’re not driving anymore tonight, right?”

“Nope. Leeyum’s driving me.”

Louis cupped his neck, tried to get Zayn to look at him. “You promise?”

“Promise, Tommo,” Zayn said quietly, sounding a lot like a little kid than twenty-four.

Louis nodded. “How’d you do tonight?”

Zayn frowned, his mouth popping open like he didn’t remember quite what to say. Oh. That was why he was like this. “I lots. I mean, I lost. I lost lots.” He pouted, pink lip jutting out and Louis took pity on his pretty soul and pulled him back in for a bear hug, until Zayn tried to lean all his weight on him, and Louis squeaked as he lost his balance. They fell against the side of Banksy and Zayn sighed, settling in between Louis’ thick thighs, solid and warm. Louis tightened his arms around Zayn, pointedly ignoring his dick’s twitch of interest. Zayn was way too drunk tonight. Zayn puffed air across Louis’ collarbones. “Hiiii.”

Louis grinned in spite of himself. He pressed a kiss to Zayn’s head. “Hi, Zaynie. No more drinking, okay?”

“Okay.” Zayn jumped, eyes wide, pulling back from Louis to bat on his arm obnoxiously. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t you have to race tonight? Like now?”

Louis burst into a grin. “Yeah, you great big oaf, I do.”

“Go, go, go, you gotta go.”

Louis made his way through the crowd of people, stopping to talk to a few that were there for him, sign autographs for his fans—he still couldn’t believe that was a real thing, it felt like he should be a rock star or something—trying to spot tonight’s flagger, see who he was gonna take home when he won. He spotted the hot, shaggy-haired blonde wearing a muscle shirt that said “Fuck Me, I’m Irish”, ragged jean shorts, and a Snapback.

Oh, excellent.

He smacked the blonde’s ass and giggled at the yelp. “Nice ass, flagger. Wanna come home with me at the end of the night?”

Niall Horan spun around. “Tommo! How the fuck are ya, man?”

“Oh you know, just ready to win,” he said breezily, hooking his arm around his best friend’s neck and hauling the other man into his chest for a hug.  
Louis could feel the pent-up energy buzzing in his veins again and he needed to race, needed to get his blood pumping, and feel the steering wheel beneath his fingers, needed to hear the roar of the engine and the stutter-click of the shifting gears. He just really, really needed to race, like now.

“Someone’s confident tonight.”

“I’m five-and-oh for the month, Nialler. Who’ve I got anyway? Some fresh blood, I hope?”

“Yep. His name’s Harry Styles.”

“Hmm. That name’s not familiar. Is this his first race with us?”

“Just moved here from Texas last month. Heard he’s pretty good.”

“Pretty is as pretty does, Nialler.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says about you.”

“Fuck off, flagger. Take that pretty mouth and put it somewhere else.”

Louis’ head snapped up when a curly-haired guy walked, literally, out of the shadows and into the spotlight in the circle of fans and cars. He had chocolate ringlet curls stuffed into a grey beanie, a white shirt, and black basketball shorts. It shouldn’t be attractive but god it was.

Louis’ mouth went dry. The newcomer was smiling and had dimples so deep Louis wanted to live there. “Niall, who is that?” He was gorgeous and lanky and Louis wanted him. Immediately.

Niall burst out laughing. “Dude, trust me, you don’t want to fuck him.”

“I don’t want to fuck him. I want him to fuck me.”

Niall grimaced. “Gross, dude. Gross.”

“Nialler, I keep telling you, one day it’s going to happen for you too. You’ll meet a nice boy—”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” Louis corrected, narrowly dodging the swatting arm. “A boy and you’ll fall madly in love. I promise you.”

“Fuck off.”

Louis giggled. He and Niall both knew there was no real heat behind their words. “Aww, Nialler, I say all of this out of love.”

Louis watched the curly-haired guy laugh and felt himself smiling too. Watching him was magnetic. Louis definitely, definitely wanted him. “Niall, I’ve found who I’m taking home at the end of the night.”

“Louis.”

“No, I always take someone home after a win. You know I have too much energy after a race. Tonight is no different.”

“Yes it is.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s—”

The crowd erupted in cheers, chanting “Niall, Niall!” and Niall left him standing near Banksy with his mouth open and his hands on his hips. “Hi, how’s everyone doing tonight? Good to see you guys! Now, we all know Tommo here, Tommo the Tease.” Louis threw up his patented Tomlinson Grin that made the girls and boys weak at the knees and basked in the sound of cheers in his name. God, he loved the racing life. “But you don’t know our newcomer, Harry Fucking Styles!”

Louis paled. No way. So, he was definitely not taking this one home at the end of the night. Damn. Louis schooled his face into a more neutral expression as Niall laughed. That Irish bastard.

Harry was so pretty up close Louis actually felt bad that he was about to make him nothing but a grease spot on the empty streets. Oh well, someone had to lose. Louis strode up to Harry and offered his hand to shake. He stared directly into his eyes, trying to intimidate him. This was his first race in their county, his first race against Louis; he was in for a nice surprise.

Louis whimpered when Harry’s huge—fucking huge what the fuck—hand gripped his so tight his fingers throbbed. He felt like a child gripping their dad’s hand, which was awkward considering less than five minutes ago he’d wanted to get fucked by this man. Maybe Harry wouldn’t mind being called Dad—no.

Race. The race. He had to focus on the race.

No amount of smirking and deep-dimpled, crinkly-eyed smiles would sway him from that, damn it. He was a man on a mission and he had to stay focused.  
“Louis Tomlinson.”

“Harry Styles.”

“Well, young Harold, welcome to Miami. As you can see, this is kind of my kingdom.”

“So, they’re your subjects?”

“No, they’re my fans.”

“Fans.” Harry snorted. “Okay then.”

“Someone’s gotta lose.”

“Oh my god.”

Louis frowned. “What?”

“Nothing. Let’s race, yeah?”

“God, yeah.”

Louis let out a whoop and his adoring fans followed suit. Harry laughed and shook his head.

“The man, the myth, the legend! No one ever believes me that he’s a racing dream until they see him in action. I reckon he could’ve gone Formula One with that talent, but I think he likes the thrill of back alley navigating too much. But then again, he’s always been good at fitting in tight spaces at night, especially with a hot g—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Niall!”

Everyone screamed and cheered, a new boisterous quality to the previously quiet audience. Louis was bright red. It wasn’t that his sexuality was a secret, because it most certainly wasn’t, especially when Niall made his personal mission to sneak in a new pun with every introduction, but Harry—he was always a little apprehensive around new people. Especially someone from the South like Harry. Not that he generally lived his life judging people on stereotypes, lest they do it to him.

But when he finally got the courage to look in Harry’s direction, all he saw was shiny, green eyes and a dirty smirk.

Oh. Oh wow. Okay. Louis winked.

The face contortion Harry affected could only be described as some type of creepy, frog laser stare. Louis preened.

Well, nothing like knowing you’ve got someone in the bag before a race.

“Harry Styles hales to us from West Texas. Let’s all pity his lack of a Cuban food diet, surely he needs it.” Louis glanced at Harry, expecting to see him upset. Most new people couldn’t handle Niall’s brand of teasing right away, but Harry was all smiles and great, guffawing laughter. Huh. Looks like Louis misjudged him.

“It’s okay, he tells me the miles and miles of empty dirt roads are what made him who he is today. And, shit, he started driving at the age of eleven on his grandparent’s farm. Well, shoot me in the ass and call me a mongoose.”

A what? What?

“What the fuck you on about, bro?” Louis looked around at the crowd, feeling solidarity with their confusion. Harry, of course, was laughing so hard he was actually doubled over and slapping his knee. Louis frowned. Was he even real?

“Can we get this show on the road, please? Get it, because we’re on the road, and we’re racing?” Louis laughed to himself. Niall rolled his eyes and Harry groaned.

“That was terrible, dude.”

“Oh, fuck off, both of you.” He stalked over to Banksy. “Let’s fucking go, please!” He got in and took a few deep breaths to steady himself and get centered. He revved the engine as Harry got into the car next to him. Banksy was loud and bold and beautiful and would absolutely lead him to victory tonight, he was sure of it. Not that Harry’s beautiful, powder-blue Thunderbird was any less impressive. Louis wouldn’t mind taking her for a ride some time.

Harry and his car were silent beside Louis, but it didn’t matter. The cheering of the fans more than made up for the lack of reaction he got from the car next to him. Louis’ focus snapped back into place when Niall sauntered, sauntering was really the only word for it, up in between both their cars, two bright flags in his hands. The buzzing energy returned to Louis’ veins.

“Here we go.”

Louis took a deep breath as Niall wiggled his ass for them and waved the flags all around. Louis let out a laugh. Niall raised his arms above his head. “Okay. We can do this,” he reminded Banksy, lest she forget he was the king of his streets and of the quarter-mile sprints. Niall held his arms out to his sides. Louis’ breathed deep again, steadying himself. He made sure he had his foot poised above the gas.

Niall dropped the flags.

Before they even touched the ground, Louis was off. He shot down the street with a whoop, pushing in the clutch and shifting gears, as the streetlamps illuminated in front of them one by one like gates to a kingdom opening. Louis let out a whoop again. Go Liam!

He shifted into a low gear around a turn, his tires squealing, panicking a little. Harry was up ahead of him, somewhere, but he wasn’t worried. There were still miles to go before he slept. Louis slipped down an alley, and cut in front of Harry, sliding across three empty lanes in the process.

Harry honked in a long, blaring stream. Louis laughed. He wasn’t anywhere near about to hit him, so why was he worried?

The adrenaline made him feel high in the best, best way. He didn’t understand why anyone did drugs when this was enough, but Zayn and his raucous club scene tended to disagree with him.

Louis looked up from his dashboard and fuck. Fuck, where was Harry? He swore he’d only looked down for a second, but where was the curly-haired bastard?  
Louis shifted into high gear and let Banksy shoot to eighty, then ninety, then a roaring one hundred that made him feel like lightning. He slowed for a curve coming up. He had no interest in dying for this race. He spun out a little coming out of the turn, but easily course-corrected with only a minor heart attack. Whoo!

He could see the start/finish line they’d circled back to, but where was Harry? His heart rate slowed a tick. If Harry was nowhere to be seen, he had this in the bag.  
A feeling of serenity slipped over him, just like it did most nights he knew he was going to win. There was nothing like the crisp, bright feeling crossing the finish line and knowing he’d made it. Louis shifted up and leaned back in his seat, flooring Banksy. He could just coast, if he wanted, but the sooner he crossed — FUCK!

A flash of powder blue and the blare of a horn made him slam on his brakes so hard Banksy fishtailed. The whiplash made him dizzy and he slowed to a screeching stop, heart thundering in his chest.

“What the fuck?”

He watched, in absolute disbelief, as Harry fucking Styles crossed over the finish line amidst screams and cheers. Louis sat there stunned. He lost.

The finish line was twenty feet away and Harry was already over it. He lost.

Zayn Malik woke him up at ass o’clock in the morning for this fucking race and he lost.

Harry fucking Styles, this newcomer, had beat him. Without even trying. Fuck.

Louis punched the accelerator with his foot, roaring over the finish line, late. He lost. That hadn’t happened in a month, especially not with a newbie.  
As required, Louis got out of the car to shake Harry’s hand. His fans were congratulating Harry, his fans were cheering and clapping him on the back. His fans. Fuck Harry fucking Styles.

Harry loped over to him, huge, huge grin making his dimples stand out so strong. If this was a win, Louis would absolutely take him home right now, but he was too pissed off for it. “Hey, Louis, really, really great race. That was fun. You’re amazing. Genuinely thought I was gonna lose just now.” He was being sincere, Louis could tell, but he was too pissed off to care.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You almost killed me, you reckless fucking bastard!”

The smile on Harry’s face evaporated and choking horror took over his features, his green eyes impossibly wide, cherry-red mouth gaping. “Louis, god, I’m so—”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Louis stalked back to his car and got in. It didn’t take long for the crowd to part to let him and Banksy through. He needed to go home and sleep. It was too fucking early for his life to have almost ended because of a reckless kid who also killed his win streak.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the edge of the window sill when he crawled into bed again, his room a swirl of deep black and fading purple shadows. And if he came a few minutes later with a flash of green eyes and deep dimples, well, no one had to know but him.

 

A week later, Louis was standing on his tiptoes in the frozen food section trying to reach a bag of frozen stir fry when a cart slammed into him so hard he stumbled back and brained himself on the freezer door, almost breaking it. Louis saw stars and shook his head, his heart pounding. He scowled when he saw who ran into him. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. First you almost kill me on the street, then you almost kill me because you’re texting? You’re like a goddamn Bambi.”

Harry fumbled with the phone in his hand and gulped several times, obviously scared of the madness roiling like a hurricane in Louis’ tiny body. He may have been at least three inches shorter than Harry, but he had a fury and a fire Harry visibly shrank back from. Zayn had once called him the ostentatious rooster in that stupid picture on Tumblr after a bar fight.

“I’m sorry.”

Louis snorted so loud he wasn’t sure real snot did not just shoot out of his nose. Whatever. Fuck Harry Styles.

“No, honest, I am. I am sorry. F-for texting while walking and for almost running you over last week. I didn’t expect you to gun it like you did; I thought I had a clean slide in.”

If Louis wasn’t bursting with annoyance he would’ve make a joke like I’ll clean slide in you, but he scowled instead.

Louis turned to leave, but Harry’s voice stopped him. “You know, it’s a little hypocritical of you and all, Mr. King of the Streets, you could get someone killed someday, too, you know.”

Louis spun around, livid, and this time he backed Harry into the freezer. “Listen here, you smug fuck bastard, we make sure the streets are deserted. Always. Always. So don’t you fucking dare or I swear to God I’ll knock you the fuck out.”

Harry wheeled away, tugging on his hair so hard it looked like it hurt. “Can we just fucking start over? Like, god, I’m sorry I almost ran you over, I’m sorry I ruined your win streak, I’m sorry I hit you with my cart, I didn’t mean to.”

“Which part?”

“I didn’t mean to do any of it, I just wanted to impress you, damn it!”

Louis was so surprised by Harry’s explosion of anger, the bright spots of color on his cheeks and the over-bright shine of his eyes—possibly even from tears, Louis had no idea—that he dropped the stir fry. When Louis straightened up again, Harry’s hand was dragging down his face and Louis felt him shudder like all the fight went out of him. Louis wanted to stay pissed, he really did, but the sad tilt to Harry’s mouth deflated him too.

“How did you – I mean, why did you want to im-impress me?” As the adrenaline from their shouting match faded, so did Louis’ ability to speak steadily. His hands shook and were freezing cold at the tips. He tucked them under his arms, well aware this was probably not a conversation they should be having in the middle of a grocery store.

“Been watching your races for weeks. You’re really brilliant.”

Pride burst in Louis’ chest and he preened for half a second before he remembered he was supposed to hate Harry. Harry ruined that win streak. He decided against a biting comment. “How long have you been in town?”

“Just a little over a month. Last night was my first race.” Louis must’ve made as hideous of a grimace as he felt because Harry grimaced and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

Louis made a non-committal grunt.

“So, what are you doing here, besides buying frozen stir fry?”

“Zayn and Niall are having a party.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

“I go home to, uh, to myself. I don’t have a house, so, no food.” He said this, Louis noticed, as he had a cart full of fruits and veggies. Healthy shit, yuck.

Louis gaped. “How do you not have a house?”

“I’m living with a guy named Liam? He’s letting me live with him until I find a place more permanent. He’s, like, really into cars too. Works at a garage a few blocks from our apartment.”

“Liam Payne? Sorry, I realize that’s totally random because I’m sure there are millions of Liam’s in Miami.”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“He’s in a—good God, excuse this—flirtationship with my friend Zayn.”

“Oh! That Zayn? From the race last week?”

“Yeah. They’re, like, completely in love with each other, but too stubborn to admit it.” Harry grinned, throwing Louis for a loop with the full power of his dimples, and he really should’ve waited for Harry to reply, but if he did he wasn’t sure what would end up happening, also the forgotten bananas foster ice cream was probably liquid in his cart. “Well, I gotta get back to them so . . .” Louis stepped away and Harry frowned, but shook his head and the easy smile was back.

“Yeah, yeah, see ya.”

Louis got almost around the corner before he spun on his heel with a curse. He was going to regret this, he was sure. “Hey, Harry?” He was surprised to see Harry still standing there, watching him, but if Harry was embarrassed he didn’t show it. “Do you want to come over too?”

“What?”

“Well, Liam’s coming over, so I think it’d be rude if you had to sit at home alone with no food. And we’ll have food, obviously, so you should come over and eat food too.”

Harry grinned so wide his dimples were like craters and Louis flushed down to his chest. He looked exactly like he did last week and Louis tried to block out the fact that he’d wanted to take Harry home and now he would be in his home. Louis was entirely disarmed by the pretty man in front of him.

“Yeah, I’d like to. Thanks, Louis.”

 

Louis was freaking the fuck out. It might’ve been a matter of national security at that point. Harry Styles was coming over to his house to eat his food and hang out with his friends and he didn’t know what to do. What did he wear? What did he smell like? Did he need another shower? How was he supposed to style his hair?

Because, he realized once he walked out to the parking lot, he wanted to impress Harry too. Like, the guy beat him, okay? He needed to gain a little of his dignity back, but how? And of course Zayn was being entirely unhelpful and embroiled in his own selfish crisis over Liam.

“The only one being selfish here is you, Louis,” Niall pointed out, from his position on the couch slinging back a beer.

Louis scowled at him. “Shut up. Perrie’s coming over, how are you not freaking out?” Niall shrugged and went back to drinking his beer.

Louis threw up his hands and ran back to his room to continue his internal crisis in a room that had four walls and a bed to lie down on in case he had a heart attack because Harry Styles was going to come over and be pretty in his apartment and he couldn’t function with so much pressure.

“If you’re that stressed,” Zayn said from the doorway, “you should probably rub one out before he gets here or you’ll jump his bones the second he says hello.”

Louis fish-mouthed for a few seconds until he got his wits about him and threw a pillow at Zayn’s godlike face. He caught it easily and tossed it back to Louis who grunted and stripped off his shirt. “Seriously, Zaynie, tell me what to wear.”

Zayn came into his room and peeked at his closet. “Black skinnies, black Henley, Toms, and your fringe, but not the styled kind, the soft kind. Let him see what you’d look like on a regular Sunday morning at the breakfast table.”

Louis couldn’t help the curl of fondness that flooded his stomach. His hormones were ridiculous for a twenty-three year-old-man, and he was acutely aware of just how badly he needed to get laid. It was an actual problem now. Wasn’t I furious at Harry hours ago? He pulled on the shirt Zayn chose and decided it didn’t matter. They were trying to start over, right? Might as well go all out.

And, also, maybe Zayn was right and he did need to get off before Harry got here. Who knew how good Harry would look when he showed up in a few minutes? Louis might actually come untouched, not that that feat had ever happened more than once after a few spectacular hours with Greg James.

But Harry was, like, really fucking hot, was the thing, it might be possible. It also was definitely a problem that he’d been standing in the middle of the bedroom having an internal monologue with himself for however long it took Zayn to get that bug-eyed, incredulous look on his face.

“You really, really need to get laid,” he said, before he returned to the kitchen.

“I don’t see you offering, Malik,” Louis shouted back.

Louis could still hear Niall’s delighted cackle all the way in the bathroom with the door shut.

 

 

Louis had just opened a fresh bottle of rosé (because he was a classy drunk, fuck you very much) when the doorbell rang and Niall shot up like there was a fire under his ass to answer the door. Zayn and Louis traded wicked grins.

“Pear!”

Perrie Edwards sashayed in their apartment with turquoise highlights added into her platinum blonde ringlets. “Do not call me a fruit, Niall.” But she softened in his embrace and buried her face in his neck. Louis looked away and caught the fondness and triumph in Zayn’s eyes.

Louis didn’t blame him. After a brief, yet awkward period where Perrie had a crush on Zayn, but he was too focused on Liam to notice, it’d been up to the three of them to make Niall and Perrie see what was right in front of them. So far, it looked like it was working. Louis grinned.

“Pear bear,” Louis yelled, just to watch her squeal at him, as he hurried around the counter to give her a hug. Perrie had soft curves and a soft face and every time she smiled it was a delight to see Niall become the human embodiment of the sun for her.

“Perrie, darling, you look marvelous,” Zayn greeted in a really bad British accent that had everyone giggling.

Louis turned away with a happy hum and poured them all glasses of wine. All the people he loved were standing in his kitchen right now. Well, except for Liam. And his mom and his sisters, but who was counting? He flitted to the stove to check on the stir fry. He wasn’t a great cook by any means, but it wasn’t that hard to pop ingredients in a pan and let it cook itself.

 

So, he might’ve been a little tipsy by the time Harry and Liam showed up an hour later. He couldn’t help it, he was nervous, okay?

Louis might’ve also stared, with his mouth open, at Harry’s big, green sweater and even tighter jeans than him, but that was okay, he figured, because Harry was staring at him too. Louis’ skin tingled. Okay then, he was definitely over his hatred. Definitely.

“Sorry, guys, we had a flat on the way here and Liam insisted on fixing it himself.”

“I do run an auto body shop, you know, you blockhead.”

“Aren’t you Harry, from last week’s race?” Zayn asked.

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I am. I’m surprised you remember me, to be honest. You were a little . . .” Harry made a dive-bomb whistle noise and Zayn turned bright red.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I kinda get . . . flustered when I lose.”

“That’s okay, better than Tommo here who almost committed homicide in the frozen food aisle.” And then he froze, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to joke about that yet.

Louis shrugged. “It’s true. The bastard almost ran me over last week and then he hit me with his cart today. I figured killing him was the appropriate reaction.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Perrie said, with a roll of her raccoon-blackened eyes.

Louis winked at Harry to show he wasn’t actually serious. Harry visibly relaxed. His gaze flitted to Liam and Louis suddenly remembered his manners. “Come in, come in, you two! We’ve got stir fry ready to eat, rosé chilling in the fridge, two six packs of Heinekin—”

“Yick.”

Louis spun around and glared at Harry. “What now?”

“Shiner Bock is better, everyone knows that.”

“Shine what?”

Harry’s eyes widened comically. “Wait, are you serious? You don’t know what Shiner is? Oh my god, you poor, poor, uneducated, non-Texans! How do you live with yourselves?”

“Oh fuck off,” Liam said, with a playful shove at Harry’s shoulder. “Sorry we couldn’t all be from the greatest state in the world.”

Harry preened. “You should be.”

 

 

Louis went outside after dinner to smoke with Zayn. He wasn’t a one-pack-a-week guy like Zayn, but he enjoyed the menthol burn during a chill party like this. Zayn flicked his ashes over the side of the balcony, watching them swirl into the darkness below, and join the waterfall of his exhaled breath. “So, you and Styles seem to be getting along tonight, what gives?”

“We had a blowup in the frozen food aisle.”

“Seriously?”

Louis blushed. “Yeah. I got really pissed, you know? But, like, he was trying to impress me and shit, so then I just felt bad.”

“Wow? Pity, really?”

Louis jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice and groaned. He turned to face the sour expression on Harry’s face. He was holding two beers in between two fingers and a pack of smokes in the other. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I’m just gonna . . .” Zayn stubbed out his cigarette and ducked his head as he went back inside, leaving Louis to fend for himself. That bastard. Louis was disowning him the second they got inside.

Louis stared at Harry for a full minute, letting arousal and heat coil in his belly. He was too drunk for this conversation and too attracted to Harry for his own good. “I meant that I felt bad for being an asshole. I’m sorry. Even if you did try to kill me. I’m not good with, like, losing races very often. Especially to new guys like you. Also, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I think there might actually be two of you standing in front of me right now, so what the hell, but I’m also really fucking attracted to you. Like, I was totally planning on taking you home and fucking you after I won kind of attracted to you.”

Harry spat on the ground with a sneer. “Thanks for that. Love knowing I’m a prize.”

Louis let out a frustrated groan and tugged on his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it, though? You always take home someone after a win?”

Louis nodded immediately, then regretted it the second his head stopped moving. “I mean. Um.” He looked around to find no one there. “Help.”

Harry watched him from over the top of the beer he was currently draining and after he pitched it over the balcony to the road below he was back to sneering at Louis. “You know I actually thought we might be friends after tonight, but fuck you. You’re just an asshole.”

Louis watched him leave, his mouth hanging open. His wine-drunk thoughts were scrambling around, trying to figure out what just happened, but he gave up after a while and sat on the ground, at a loss for what to do. He leaned against the balcony and closed his eyes. Maybe the ground would open up and swallow him. Maybe this was just a bad dream.

He flinched at the click of Perrie’s heels on the gravel some time later. “Perald, why do I always fuck up stuff?”

She petted his head and lowered herself to his level. “I dunno, babe, but, give it time, yeah? You don’t even really know him. It took years for Niall and I—Um.”

Louis cracked one eye open at that. “You and Ni to what?”

“To get where we are.”

“Which is?”

“Well, we like each other, but he hasn’t made a move.”

“Oh come on, Pear, it’s 2014, can’t you make the move already?”

Perrie hummed against the top of his head. “I could, yeah, but what if it all goes wrong? What if he just likes the chase?”

“Listen, since I’m all sorts of fucked up right now, and since I’ve already fucked up a ton tonight already, wait did I just say that twice? I don’t know I’m confused – anyway. Nialler’s been in love with you since he took over flagging for you, so don’t sweat it.”

“But-but that was, like, five years ago.”

“And you were being all stupid over Zayn, I know.”

Perrie snorted. “Yeah, fat lot of good that crush did me. God, can you even believe there was a time I didn’t see the way they look at each other?”

Louis peeked his eyes open to find Zayn and Liam in the house, but his vision was too blurry. He shut his eyes. “Yep, I can.”

“Speaking of, you and Harry almost disappeared to a whole other planet tonight when you first saw each other. What was that?”

“Hmmm, did we?” His heart was beating fast now. “I don’t recall.”

Perrie knocked her head against Louis’. “Lou, I’ve never seen another guy more attracted to you than Harry.”

“But I’ve only known him for, like, a week. Technically only a few hours.”

“And I bet you wanted to fuck him before the race, right?”

Louis groaned miserably. “Am I that obvious?”

“Of course, you’re also forgetting that I know your methods by now.”

“Well,” Louis slurred. “It’s not like it matters now. He wasn’t too charmed to learn that.”

Perrie cringed. “Well, he lives with Liam, so you’ll probably see him a lot more. Give it time.”

Louis grunted a response. He didn’t want to give it time. He didn’t want to do anything but sleep. “Pear Bear? Do you think you could carry me to my bed, please?”  
Perrie burst out laughing and Louis was offended for half a second before he remembered he was too tired for all that effort. He sighed. “Please? My legs don’t work anymore. I don’t know how to walk.”

“Liam,” Perrie yelled. “Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyum!”

Liam came rushing out to the balcony, but scowled when he saw Louis basically lolled on the ground with Perrie. Louis put his arms up and whined. “Leeyum, uppie!”

“No, walk yourself. You made my roommate leave.”

A wash of fear and nerves went down Louis’ spine. “What? Harry left?”

“Yes, no thanks to you being an ass. For fuck’s sake, Louis, I barely know the guy and now I have to deal with a pissy roommate? Thanks a lot.”

Louis’ cheeks burned and he closed his eyes again, giving a yelp when he felt big arms slipping around him and hauling him to his feet. He swayed on the concrete. He was sure this was actually the sea and he was walking on water. Maybe. Probably. Did that make him Jesus? He’d have to ask Liam later when the sky wasn’t spinning behind his eyelids.

He was vaguely aware of Liam helping him stumble towards his bedroom, and helping him arrange a pillow barrier like a baby so he was forced to stay on his side during the night, but Louis couldn’t remember if he had said goodnight to Niall and Zayn. He scrambled for Liam’s hand. “Leeyum. Leeyum!”

“What, Louis, what?”

“Tell Zaynie and Nialler I love them, okay? Make sure they know.”

Liam patted his face. It felt nice. Louis smiled. “They know, bud.”

“Okay, night night, Li.”

“Night night, Louis.” Liam chuckled as he turned off Louis’ bedside lamp. He was asleep before Liam shut the door.

 

 

Why Louis was standing on Liam and Harry’s doorstep at 3 A.M. a few days later, he really had no clue, except he’d heard that the fastest way to make a friend was to divulge a secret, so here went nothing. He had to apologize. Liam and Zayn didn’t need anything else holding them back from each other, and Louis really, really hated having someone not like him. Especially someone as hot as Harry. Call it a complex.

Louis heard Liam walking to the door and the muttered “oh for fuck’s sake” right before the door opened. He’d obviously woken Liam up. He was in black briefs and his hair was sticking up everywhere. He blinked sleepily. “Tommo, I better be dreaming.”

“You’re not. Let me in? I need to talk to Harry.”

“At three in the morning? He’s probably asleep.”

“He’s not.”

If Louis expected Harry to be happy to see him, or anything less than stone-faced and sleepy, just because he’d come to the door, he was sorely disappointed. He did, however, like seeing Harry’s bed-head and black Hipsta Please t-shirt. He couldn’t tell if Harry was wearing anything on underneath or not, but he was distracted by Liam’s voice.

“Oh thank God, you’re not naked, for once.”

“I was. Threw on clothes when I heard you talking.”

Louis choked.

“Are you gonna let me in?”

“Are you gonna talk to him?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Might as well . . .”

Louis tried not to fist pump. The hardest part wasn’t over yet. He still had to get Harry to listen to him and hopefully forgive him for being a colossal asshole, like, all the time. He’d been in Liam’s apartment a thousand times, but it looked different now that Harry lived there, smaller somehow, like Harry’s presence took up all the extra space.

He was quiet as Harry led him out to the balcony and leaned against the railing. Neither of them said a word for a few minutes, until finally Louis couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t used to all this silence; he was always loud and abrasive and tried to fill up a room with his personality. After so many little siblings, silence made him nervous.

“I sing.”

“What?”

“At Thirsty Thursdays, you know the bar by the beach?” Harry shook his head. “Well, it has this open mic night kinda thing sometimes, and me, and Li, and Zayn, and Niall sing there sometimes. Our friend Ed got us into it. He’s, like, this fucking awesome musician, you know? And so it’s kinda nerve-wracking when we have to sing against him, but the prize money is good, so it’s not too bad. The guys are really, really good singers.”

“Not you?”

“Oh.” Louis scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Well, I don’t know, sometimes I think I am, but then Zayn will pull these incredible high notes and I kinda just shrivel up and die.”

Harry barked a laugh that startled them both. He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry. I’m sure you’re great though.”

“Thanks.”

“I sing too, or I used to. I was in this little garage band back home. We didn’t really go anywhere though.”

“You should sing with us sometime.”

Harry smiled, small and private against his bicep. Louis wanted to fist pump in triumph. He’d gotten Harry to laugh at something he’d said and smile. He still had a long way to go, he figured, but this was a start.

“Also, I played Danny Zuko in a high school play.”

Harry cackled, pressing his forehead against the railing. “Oh god.”

“Hey, I was awesome, fuck you very much.” But he was smiling too.

“I played Snoopy in a Kindergarten play.”

Louis burst out laughing. “And you had the nerve to laugh at me?”

“Hey, I was good, shut up.”

“My favorite color is blue. I’ve played the piano since I was six, I have five little sisters and one baby brother, and I have ADHD, which is why I drive a stick. Banksy was the first car I got with my own money and I didn’t have anything left over to repaint her, she was a real clunker, so Zayn fixed her up for me.”

“Zayn did that? It’s gorgeous work. He should do, like, art gallery stuff.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Why are you telling me all this stuff?” Harry asked. “Did you really come over at three in the morning just to give me a laundry list about your life?”

Louis bristled, prepared to fight back, but had to remind himself he was here to make peace, not make everything worse. “Nope. They said if you tell a kidnapper details about yourself, make yourself seem more human and not just someone to fuck with, you have a better chance of surviving.”

“You think I’m going to kidnap you?”

“No, but it might be nice if you didn’t hate me so much.”

Harry snorted. His hands tightened on the railing, but he didn’t look at Louis. “In that case you might wanna start with an apology.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sure.”

“No, really, I am. I really don’t mean to be an asshole, I promise. I think it’s genetic.”

“You’re Shameless.”

“Did you ju—oh my god, you did not.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“You watch that show? Seems too gritty for you.”

“How would you know that?”

“You just look like the kinda guy who’d like, I don’t know, Arrow or something.”

“Hey, Arrow is a great show, fuck you very much.”

Louis smirked. He was so right, even if he did agree. Hey, Stephen Amell was hot as fuck.

“Yeah, but I was being serious about the genetics part. My sperm donor of a father abandoned me and my mom when I was ten days old.”

Harry cringed. Louis could feel his body burning up, like he was a small star, radiating heat and energy with how jittery he was. Could Harry see how vulnerable he felt right now? He felt naked in front of him, but stripped bare and open in a way he never was with sex. It made him nervous.

When his eyes finally found their way to Harry’s, he inhaled sharply. The moon was out in full force now, brighter than moments ago. Moonlight washed across his face in slats, his green eyes bright, curls like a halo around his face. Harry studied him too, though what he was thinking Louis couldn’t tell. Suddenly, he rocked back on his heels and moved forward. Louis was afraid to breathe. He wrapped his arms around Louis, and even though he was a good three inches taller, he buried his face in Louis’ neck. His skin tingled at the contact. “I’m sorry.”

Stunned, Louis barely had time to hug Harry back before the younger guy was pulling away.

“It-it sucked. But then my mom met my dad and he adopted me, gave me his name and everything. But then they got divorced, like, six years ago, so.” He huffed a breath to keep from tearing up. He wasn’t usually this emotional about his family, at least to virtual strangers. Years of having almost zero childhood because they hadn’t been very well off, and he’d had to help raise his little sisters made him fiercely loyal, if a little hardened.

Harry turned away and looked out over the balcony. “My parents got divorced when I was little too, but my mom just got engaged to the guy she’s been with since I was, like, twelve, so that’s good.”

“You like him?”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy. He makes her happy, so that’s fine with me.”

“Are you close to your dad?”

“Sort of? He lives back in Texas, so I doubt I’ll get to see him much now.”

Louis hummed in sympathy. Since his parents got divorced and his dad moved to Georgia for work they never got to see him very much anymore. Louis missed him so much sometimes it was like being punched in the gut. He sniffed. “God, listen to us, being all sappy about our family.”

Harry shrugged and smiled at him, soft and sleepy. “It‘s okay with me.”

After that it was like something broke in them, he could feel it, the anger and the tension evaporated. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the late hour or not. Maybe he was just sleep deprived and delirious. Would this come back to him in the morning? Maybe, maybe not.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I, like, tried out for F One, or whatever. I worked really hard at the whole go-kart thing, but we never had enough money to go very far. At least not far enough to really be someone that mattered.” He gestured to the empty space in front of them, looking over their balcony at the sprawling city beyond. “That’s why I street race. I love cars, I love speed, I love the rush and the thrill, you know? I love watching Zayn, Liam, and Niall take care of our garage together, I love the fans, I love it all. I just wish it wasn’t so . . .”

“Dangerous? Illegal? Potentially deadly?”

“Yeah, that.”

 

They were comfortably quiet for a long time after that. The ocean breeze felt nice against his skin, helped to offset the humidity that still lingered, even with the sun down. Louis got absorbed in staring at the moon. It was such a bright, overwhelming white, and the sky, for being in the city, was such a deep black it was mesmerizing. “Would you look at that? Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” His voice was soft, awed.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Harry staring at him with a wisp of a smile. “Yeah, I have.”

Louis turned to face Harry, his whole body curving into Harry’s space. Harry’s hands molded to Louis’ curves. Warmth spread out all over Louis’ body, his skin tingling. His heart was pounding. Harry was just inches from him, their body heat radiating off each other.

Harry towered over him, but his lips were so, so close. Louis closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was about to happen, but he’d wanted it since the moment he walked out of the shadows and into Louis’ life, however brief a time that was. He’d fucked guys after less time, so why did Harry make him jittery?

Louis accidentally kicked a rock off the balcony when he moved closer to Harry. It hit a car below them and the blaring shriek of the alarm had them laughing and moving away from the line of sight of anyone who tried to look up.

“Hey, can you guys keep it – oh.”

Startled, Harry and Louis sprang apart.

Liam was staring at them from the edge of the balcony door, bleary-eyed and in nothing but black briefs. Louis couldn’t believe Liam had actually fallen asleep, but he also hadn’t thought it had been all that long, but a look at his phone told him it was edging on four. Oops.

“Need some company?”

“Nah, Li, it’s alright, go back to sleep.”

Liam blinked. “Oh. Okay. Goodnight then.”

Louis and Harry watched him go back inside. “If he remembers it at all in the morning,” Harry said. “I’ll just tell him he was dreaming.”

Louis’ cheeks burned. “Oh. Because – because the truth would be bad.”

Harry bumped his arm. “No, because this night is beautiful and I’m sharing it with you, not anyone else.”  
Louis looked up, his heartbeat racing. “Oh.”

When Louis woke up, it was with a face full of brown curls and oppressive, sweaty heat. He froze, his mind spinning, desperately trying to remember what happened and why there was a stranger on top of him, almost crushing him. Harry made a snuffling noise and Louis both tensed and relaxed at the same time. 

Oh, it was just Harry. Just Harry. No, it was all Harry.

Slowly, awareness spread back to his sleepy brain. He remembered almost kissing him last night, Liam interrupting, remembered them choosing to go to sleep instead of Louis driving home in the middle of the night. He’d offered to take the floor, but Harry hadn’t liked that. And now he was lying here with morning wood and a hot, literally and figuratively, guy stretched out across him like it was even remotely okay that they were this close.

Panicking, Louis slid out from underneath Harry, his heart beating so loud in his ears it kind of hurt. He grabbed his shirt and jeans off the floor and padded to the bathroom. He figured it was okay if he took a shower in Harry’s bathroom, considering he was drenched in sweat and smelled. Harry would appreciate it. Probably.

He would probably less appreciate the fact that Louis was about to get off in his shower, but certain things just could not be helped. Not when Harry was that hot.  
When he came out, feeling refreshed, and smelling like mint and strawberry shampoo, Harry wasn’t in bed anymore. Louis had a small moment of panic, thinking he’d been ditched, before he remembered this was Harry and Liam’s house, and the glorious smell of breakfast made his stomach grumble.

With a smile, Louis peeked out into the kitchen. Harry was in jeans and a Henley, dancing around the stove, his back turned to Louis. Louis almost choked when he started wiggling his butt, and what a cute butt it was, if he did say so himself.

Oddly enough, this didn’t feel weird, it felt comfortable, which really freaked him out. He hardly knew Harry, this shouldn’t feel easy, especially after the last few days.

“You made a slow disaster out of me,” Harry sang.

“You were a kindness when I was a stranger,” Louis answered.

Harry jumped and dropped his spatula. Louis snickered. “That’s not how the song goes.”

Louis grinned, willing Harry to turn around. “I know, but it’s light outside, so it wouldn’t fit. Plus, you’re making me breakfast, so, kindness, stranger.”  
Harry looked at him for the first time and his mouth dropped open at the same time Louis’ did. The spatula hit a patch of grease and the drops flew up and landed on Harry’s arm. He flinched, but didn’t take his eyes off Louis.

He had no idea what Harry was seeing in him, but he was seeing cherry-red lips, bright green eyes, and red, red cheeks, like he’d been fucked hard only moments ago, but really was just heat from the stove. Louis wanted to know if he looked like that all blissed out and sated against his sheets. It was a glorious sight. The buzzing tension in Louis’ veins came back. Oh. How were they not supposed to fuck on the kitchen table again?

“How – how do you know all this food is for you? What if I just like a big breakfast?”

The shock broke the tension and Louis laughed, ducking his head, a huge grin lighting up his face. “You asshole, do you know how good that smells? I better be getting some of that.”

“Getting some of what?”

“Jesus, Liam!” Louis jumped when Liam clapped him on the back out of nowhere. Harry and Liam were shaking with laughter. “Fuck you both, that wasn’t funny.”  
“Yes it was,” they agreed.

Louis ignored them. “Well, if you’re gonna eat with us I might as well call Ni and Zayn, yeah?”

“I don’t have enough food though,” Harry said, with a pout.

Louis and Liam looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, H, Niall will bring enough food to feed a small army.”

 

 

“Well, you weren’t wrong,” Harry said, after they’ve stuffed themselves on breakfast tacos, scrambled eggs rancheros, waffles dripping with butter and syrup, and ketchup-bacon sandwiches.

Louis was so full and sleepy he couldn’t even bother to respond beyond just a grunt of agreement. Niall’s foot kicked his ear and Louis snapped at him, teeth clacking in the silence. They were all curled up in Liam’s California king sized bed in a giant, sleepy puppy pile. It was quite possible that they were all unhealthy co-dependent on each other, but Louis wasn’t going to question it when he felt safe and warm in the middle of his boys.

He couldn’t exactly sleep though, not with Harry beneath him, tracing patterns on his ankle bone. His face was hidden in Louis’ leg, so he couldn’t tell what Harry was doing exactly, but every once in a while his lips would brush the delicate bone and Louis’ eyes would fly open. It wasn’t fair that he was smack dab in the middle of the pile and getting out wouldn’t be easy.

“Tommo, I swear to God if you do not stop that I will kill you,” Zayn growled from in front of him. Louis was about to ask him what he was talking about, until he noticed how – yeah, okay, that was gonna be a problem. He was half hard in his boxers and if Harry didn’t stop he’d be done for. The bed shook from Harry’s silent laughter.

“Go the fuck to sleep, Harold,” Louis snapped, but he couldn’t help smiling too. God, how was this even happening right now?

 

 

Louis woke with a start. He was burning hot, drenched in sweat, and covered in bodies from head to toe. How was he supposed to get out of here? He craned his head to see there was light at the end of the tunnel of his body, which must mean Harry was up too. Louis slithered out from underneath Zayn and Liam and watched fondly as they and Niall curled up together in their sleep. Aw, they were like little puppies.

With a glorious, back-popping stretch that curled his toes, Louis headed for the living room. He expected to see Harry sitting on the couch, or in the kitchen cleaning up, but the apartment was silent. He stood there dumbly for a moment, before he thought to check the balcony. Sure enough, he was out there, reading the paper with a tall glass of orange juice.

He padded out there, the concrete warm on his bare feet. “Hey.”

Harry held up a finger and didn’t respond. He was frantically scribbling something in pen into the crossword puzzle boxes. Louis watched him concentrate in fascination. He didn’t know many people who even did crossword puzzles other than his nan, much less in pen. Harry Styles was so weird.

After a few minutes, Harry took off his sunglasses and looked up. His face was streaked in sunlight and shadows, but his eyes were bright and his smile was brighter. “Sorry, I was on a roll. How’d you sleep?”

“What, you mean when you finally stopped teasing me?”

Harry had the good grace to duck his head and look a little bit guilty. “Yeah.”

“Good. You?”

“Oh, I didn’t sleep too long. It got too hot, you know?”

“Tell me about it. I’ve woken up drenched in sweat twice today.”

“Aw, and without ever having a nice, deep dicking, what a shame.”

Louis laughed so hard he fell backwards off the chair and landed flat on his ass. Hard. The pain sparked up his spine and he let out a pathetic wail, but he was laughing too hard to move. Harry scrambled over to help him stand up, but he was laughing too.

Louis held out his arms for Harry to pull him up, but that ended up being a mistake because six seconds later Harry crashed down on top of him. That set off a new round of hysterical peals of laughter.

Harry was straddling his hips, his hands on either side of Louis’ head. He was boxed in, trapped, weighted down by this massive guy, all warm and solid, his minty breath ghosting out over Louis’ face. Louis shifted his hips to get more comfortable and shivered when he felt his cock drag along Harry’s. Oops.

Harry let out a groan and pressed down so hard on Louis it was almost painful, past the explosion of stars behind his eyelids, and heat in his belly. Louis whined, his eyes snapping open to look at Harry. His eyes were as clear and bright and sparkling as lake water. Louis’ hands slipped under Harry’s t-shirt, sliding along the warm skin of his back, his nails making Harry shiver and whine.

“Kiss me,” Louis breathed. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.” He knew he was shamelessly begging, but he was burning up all over, like he was the sun and Harry was a comet about to crash into him, and he just wanted to be kissed, damn it.

Niall’s hysterical cackle startled them. Louis dropped his head back to the concrete with a curse as Harry scrambled off him. Louis stayed there, his head lolled to the side, to catch Niall’s wiggling eyebrows of doom. Louis flicked him off.

 

Louis bumped into Harry again in the cereal aisle days later. He was getting Grape Nuts. Grape Nuts. “Are you kidding me? What are you, an old man?”

Harry looked up with a roll of his eyes. "What’s wrong with Grape Nuts?”

“Nothing, if you’re eighty. Everyone knows Frosted Flakes are better.”

“That’s so unhealthy, you’ll get cavities and die.”

“Yeah, but at least it will taste better than your crap.”

“Oh shut up, Louis. The only people who still eat cereals as sugary as you are five years old.”

Louis grinned. “Go on a date with me.”

Harry was appropriately startled. “Um. What?”

“Well, that’s how relationships normally work, yeah? You go on dates and then you give in to the, like, slow burn shit or whatever.”

Harry grinned slyly. “Lewis, if you’re feeling a slow burn you might want to see a doctor about that.”

Louis threw a bag of knock-off Cocoa Puffs at his stupid face, but he was laughing and so was Harry. “Seriously, go on a date with me.”

“Don’t you mean cerealy?”

Louis flushed down to his toes with a rush of overwhelming endearment and fondness, which was ridiculous because that was quite possibly the dumbest thing he’d ever heard another human being say. They were not in middle school anymore, this shit was not funny. “Yeah, I’m cereal. Go on a date with me.”

Harry answering grin could power the grocery store and maybe even all of Miami all by itself. “Give me your number?”

Someone walking by, who’d obviously been eavesdropping on their conversation, handed Louis and pen and kept walking. Louis watched them disappear, flabbergasted, traded looks with Harry, and laughed so hard there were tears streaming down both their faces and they were sitting on the dirty floor of the aisle, legs shaking, before Louis could stop laughing long enough to scribble his number on Harry’s arm. They helped each other stand up.

“But – but what if I sweat too much and the writing comes off? What if it starts raining on the way home and your number washes away? How will I get a hold of you?”

Louis stared at him, gloriously amused, until the frightened look on Harry’s face had him caving. “Just ask Liam.” Harry’s shocked face made him look like a surprised emu. Louis shook his head and pushed his cart down the aisle. “Honestly, Harold.”

 

 

The next night, Louis’ phone lit up at 3 A.M. and buzzed obnoxiously until he woke up enough to fish it off the bedside table and answer it. “’lo?” His voice was creaky and rough and his throat hurt. He took a slug of water from the bottle next to his bed, wincing as the plastic crackled and popped like gunshots in the silence. What was it with him and Harry and 3 A.M.?

“Hey,” Harry whispered. “Answer your door.”

Louis frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’m outside and it’s freezing as fuck.”

Louis bolted up, his head swimming. “What?”

“Put on pants and come outside.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, Lewis, and hurry the fuck up, it’s cold.”

Louis wanted to tell him to fuck off, go away, let him go back to sleep, but he could feel the draft coming in through his open window and it was nippy outside. He let out a groan. He couldn’t let Styles freeze to death. “Be right there.” His bedroom was drenched in moonlight, silver slices of light filtering in murky like lamps beneath the water. It was so inviting and tugged at him.

He could just stay here. He didn’t have to let Harry in, he could go back to sleep and pretend he hadn’t called at all. But he couldn’t do it and he knew it. Harry sounded too excited, which was frankly ridiculous at such a late hour. They hadn’t had a race since that night, thank God, so he’d gotten used to being able to sleep through the night again.

Louis pulled on a sweater that nearly swallowed him, sweatpants, and slipped into his Toms. He padded to the front door, trying to be quiet and not wake Zayn and Niall sleeping in their rooms. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Harry grinned. He looked beautiful for this time of night, which was really not fair. His cheeks were rosy, in stark contrast to his pale skin, and his lips were cherry-red again. Louis seriously considered asking him if he wore lip gloss or something. That color surely wasn’t natural, was it?

“I wanted to see you.”

“At three in the morning?”

Harry shrugged. “You make my bones itch.”

Louis was flabbergasted, but followed along behind him to the car because, yeah, you make my bones itch too, Harry. Whatever that meant.

The National was playing when they got in the car and Louis welcomed the heaters. His arms had goose bumps on them. Too late Louis realized they weren’t in the car from earlier, but a Range Rover. Louis smiled. “Styles, you sell out! A Range Rover?”

“It’s my mom’s,” he defended.

“Your mom? You live with your mom?”

“No, dumbass, I live with Liam."

“Oh. Yeah. Duh. Shut up, okay, it’s three in the morning. Thank you for waking me up this early, by the way.”

Harry smiled at him as they took a curve, all dimples and teeth. “You’re welcome.”

Louis snorted and folded himself on the seat and leaned against the window. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you think we’re going? You’re the one who’s lived here your whole life, you tell me.”

Louis gave a cursory look at his surroundings. He really didn’t want to take his eyes off Harry driving. He may have been a newborn deer on land, but once he was in a car he was focused, sharp, graceful. He moved fluidly in a way that Louis envied.

Sure, he knew how to be focused and steady when he needed to be, he knew how to keep his mind on the task at hand, but he was still jittery, still all keyed up whenever he was being the wheel. He didn’t know how to relax, to be still, to not let his mind and his bones race a mile a minute. That’s why he drove a stick in every car he owned. He had to have something to keep himself occupied. But Harry seemed calm and slow as molasses, easy and free in a way Louis wished he could be.

“Lou?”

Louis snapped out of his thoughts and met Harry’s eyes in the brief instant they flickered to his. In the darkness of the cab, with just the blue interior lighting and The National pouring out, Louis felt warm and sleepy and intimately connected to Harry, but then again, maybe that was just the song making him feel all epic.

“Uh, the beach?”

“Yeah, I thought we could watch the sun come up.” Harry was all excited. It was cute.

Louis gave him a sleepy smile. “What exactly are we supposed to do for three hours?”

“I dunno,” Harry mumbled. “We could talk. I guess.”

Louis frowned. He could see the way Harry’s mouth pulled down at the corners, hear the dejection in his voice, as soft as it was. Louis bumped his hand against Harry’s. “Sounds great, H.” He dragged the heel of his hand against Harry’s knuckles. He had this fierce desire to make sure he wasn’t sad, not tonight, not on their date. Oh god. This was a date. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth. Oh god.

“Stop.”

The sound of Harry’s voice startled him. “Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re stressing about that has your foot jiggling against the dash like that.”

“How do you know I’m stressing?”

Harry glanced at him. “What are you thinking about then?”

“Honestly? The fact that this is supposed to be a date and I haven’t even brushed my teeth.”

“I’ve got mints in my glove box.”

Louis giggled. “You would.”

“What does that mean, Lewis?”

“Just that I absolutely took you for someone who would keep mints in their glove box. How positively minty of you.”

“Oh fuck off. What do you keep in your glove box?”

“Insurance papers.”

Harry giggled—actually giggled—and pressed his hand to his face. Louis watched him, enraptured. Harry when he was happy was a beautiful sight, Louis decided. He was absolutely gorgeous, with his deep dimples, sparkly eyes, and curls that looked so, so soft. He wanted to touch Harry’s curls, run his hands through his hair a little. “Will you just eat a mint?”

“Why are you planning on kissing me later?”

It was Louis’ turn to be coy. He shrugged, refusing to smile at Harry. Instead, since he failed at not smiling, he turned into the window and pressed his smile against the glass. He could feel Harry looking at him and blushed. Damn him for not being able to control his emotions around this gangly boy. Louis ate a mint.

 

As they pulled up along the beach, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, a pale golden on an ink black sky, like someone had sewn a golden thread into a black tapestry. Though Harry’s windows were up, he could hear the crashing and roaring of the waves against the piers and the shoreline. The moonlight lit the crests of the waves in liquid silver on the black water, rising and falling, rising and falling. Where the sand was wet from the receding waves it was like someone poured glow in the dark liquid along the sand. Louis watched the black water devour the glowing sand.

Louis turned to Harry. He was quiet, looking out over the water, he looked serene here. Louis curled up against the window again. Elevator Song by Keaton Henson was playing on repeat, but so softly it only just backlit their scenery. Louis shivered. He felt like they were in a disaster movie, like they were driving to the end of the world, ready to accept their fate, but Louis didn’t think he would ever calmly except his fate. He was too headstrong to just accept something like that, to accept death, least of which his own or the death of someone he cared about.

He could see it now though. The five of them on the beach, the five of them ready to meet the end of all things. Right now, he figured, wouldn’t be a bad way to go, on this beach that he loved, with Harry and the rest of his boys with them too. Maybe he and Harry would kiss until they were star blinks and nothing else. His stomach twisted into knots.

Louis turned away from the water and back to Harry. He had his hand against his mouth and his brow was furrowed, like he was thinking of something rather intently. Louis wanted to kiss him. They parked and Harry shut off the engine. The quiet rumbling of the engine faded, leaving nothing but screaming seagulls and crashing waves in its wake.

“There is a radiant darkness upon us,” Harry announced, looking at him with a soft smile.

Louis had exactly twelve seconds to register what a hilariously stupid comment that was before he surged forward and kissed Harry.

Harry let out a surprised noise against Louis’ mouth, but gripped his jaw a few seconds later. There was heat behind their kiss immediately, from all the days of their attraction building but going nowhere, and Louis was half in Harry’s lap before he even registered moving. Harry was panting when Louis pulled away, his mouth red, and wet, and swollen from Louis’ kiss. God, Louis wanted to see his mouth around Louis’ cock. He started to undo the zipper on his jeans, fingers around his cock to pull it out, and paused. Fuck. Oops. “This okay?” Harry nodded frantically. Excellent.

Somewhere in the haze and lust of kissing so frantically they could both barely breathe, Harry decided he should help Louis out. The moment Harry’s fingers touched his cock, Louis whined, bucking his hips. “God, I want this so, so bad,” he moaned.

“You do?”

“Yes, Haz, God, just—”

Harry pulled Louis’ hard and leaking cock out of his boxers and Louis whined again at the combo of open air and Harry’s impossibly large hands on him. He should’ve felt embarrassed at already being dripping wet after no less than five minutes, but he hadn’t had action in over a week and hadn’t touched himself either. His desire for Harry to wreck him obliterated his obsessive, all-consuming itch to get a hand around himself.

Harry skimmed his finger over the slit and Louis’ mouth dropped open. He was making embarrassing sounds low in his throat, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. The steady, slick pressure of Harry’s hand, squeezing him just tightly enough had him losing his breath so quick he was almost lightheaded with it.

He winced when he felt the drip of Harry’s saliva on his cock and opened his eyes to see. The sight took his breath away. If Harry’s hand had been amazing, seeing how into it he was – well, that even better. Harry’s cheeks were bright red and his eyes were glassy, unfocused, like it was him getting fucked out and not Louis.

His mouth was open, saliva hanging off his bottom lip. His lips were bitten red and Louis surge forward again and kissed him. Harry licked into his mouth and wasted no time in kissing him roughly, like he wanted to devour him just as much as Louis. Like he needed it just as much.

All of a sudden it was like all the sound and heat got sucked out of the car and they were floating in midair, burning stars just orbiting each other, or comets crashing into the sun. It was cataclysmic, like the end of the earth was hurtling towards them, and Louis slumped forward with a deep moan, his breath puffing out over Harry’s forehead, as he came so hard tiny stars exploded behind his vision and the earth swirled underneath his hands. Like Harry was the center of everything and gravity was pulling him down.

Louis gave himself a few minutes to catch his breath and he was wriggling back into his seat, pulling Harry’s cock out. He was big and thick and Louis inwardly cheered. If there was anything he was good at it, it was sucking cock, Zayn reminded him all the time when they were in between races and people to fuck they took comfort in each other. Other than the rush of racing, there was nothing Louis loved more than Zayn Malik bending him over the hood of Banksy’s cooling metal hood after a race and fucking him so good all the adrenaline faded from his system and he was boneless.

Louis switched his thoughts to Harry’s waiting cock and licked the dripping pink head experimentally. Harry’s hips bucked so hard Louis ended up with a half a mouthful before he could even blink. He might’ve even choked a little at the roughness. Harry murmured a “sorry” and pulled off, but Louis pressed a thumbs up into his thigh and opened up the back of his throat, letting Harry slide down easily. Harry took that as a sign to grip Louis’ hair, hard, and fuck his mouth. Good, just the way Louis loved it. Louis swallowed once or twice against Harry and he grunted Louis’ name. It was like music to his ears.

Harry, he realized, liked to be loud and rough and he was absolutely unashamedly both, leaning his head back against the car window and fogging up the glass with his panting, whining breaths. He also really, really loved pulling Louis’ hair until his eyes watered and Louis was moaning around his cock. Louis was burning hot, sweaty, and tingly all over, because all he wanted to do was get this boy back to his house and let himself be fucked, push them both to the limits and see what they could take and what they could give, but he had to get him off first.

It wouldn’t be very long now, Louis thought, what with the way he could feel little wet ribbons of Harry’s come in his throat already, and the almost-hyperventilating way he was panting and breathing Louis’ name. Even his hand in Louis’ hair had gotten weaker. The pull wasn’t as strong, but the arousal in Louis’ belly was roiling heat.

“Fuck, God, shit, Louis, I’m gon—”

And then he was coming down Louis’ throat and stuttering his hips and moaning so loud it was more a scream than anything and Louis’ ears were ringing as he desperately tried to swallow all of Harry’s come before any of it leaked out of his mouth. When he was satisfied and had let Harry shallowly thrust into his mouth until he was too weak and quivering to do much but slump against the window and curse, Louis pulled off and looked up. Harry was a fucking god.

If he’d looked gorgeous getting Louis off, there was nothing on how gloriously fucked out he looked right now. His eyes tried to find Louis’ and the glassy, unfocused gaze that flickered to him made heat spark in Louis’ belly. He and Zayn were way too alpha male to really be all that submissive, but the floaty, wispy, subspace-y smile on Harry’s face delighted Louis. He definitely had to explore this further when they weren’t at a public place where anyone could see them and they could get arrested.

“So,” Harry said, with an exhausted pant, “I’d say all is forgiven.”

Louis grinned.

 

 

The thing about Harry, Louis realized, was that he was a ball of energy that was perfectly compatible, and perfectly in sync with Louis’ fizzing fireball ADHD. They played in the surf for hours, getting sun-baked and golden tan (and maybe a little lobster red, but Harry declared Louis was his lobster and that was the end of his complaining about how badly he’d be peeling later) until they realized they were salt-sticky and sun-exhausted.

Harry laid down on a towel and they lazily rutted against each other as Louis licked all the salt and ocean taste of his chest – he had four nipples! – until a family of four showed up and they just felt like dirty old college students. They called the rest of the boys after that, begging them to bring towels and food and fresh water.

Niall, bless him, showed up with twenty tacos from his favorite food truck down by the south end pier and promptly ate almost half of them, until Liam stopped him before he could puke. Once their food had somewhat settled, Zayn decided getting in a splashing contest was a fantastic idea, until Niall got a cramp and they all collapsed against the sand, giggling, and tired, and happy to be with each other. Louis was deliriously content the entire time that Harry seemed to be fitting in so well with their group, and Liam couldn’t stop looking back and forth between them, smiling so big his eyes kind of disappeared in his cheeks.

A pleasant warmth filled Louis’ belly. This was the best day he’d had in a long time. He’d never felt like anything was missing from their little merry band of four before, but he realized now that they were missing Harry all along. He just clicked with them. He made Louis feel like a hurricane, he was a good diffuser to Liam’s seriousness, he and Niall cracked stupid jokes constantly, and he listened with rapt attention to all of Zayn’s art stories.

By the end of the day, as they were curling up together in a gigantic puppy pile in the bed of Liam’s black truck, still warm from the sunset a few minutes ago and the crackling heat of the bonfire below, Louis realized this was the best date he’d had maybe ever, and he’d quite like to do it again soon.

He shuffled along the bed of the truck to find Harry and snuffled in his face until he could see his eyes. Their noses clacked together and Louis groaned. “Oops.”

“Hi.” Harry’s voice was quiet and gravelly, barely above a whisper so he didn’t wake a snoring Liam, and Louis’ belly did little flips as his tequila breath fanned out over Louis’ face. “So, I think this was my best date idea ever.”

Louis grinned. “Go out with me tomorrow? I’m pretty sure I can think of something to top it.”

Harry’s answering grin was like the sun coming up over the horizon and Louis was helpless to stop from kissing him. They kissed until they were too tired to move, all tangled up in each other, and pleasantly exhausted. He heard Harry whispering to him as he drifted off to sleep and strained to hear him beyond the ocean waves. “Hey Louis? I’m really glad I beat your ass the first night we met.”

Louis smiled. He was glad too. As long as it never happened again.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a follow up later titled "There's a radiant darkness upon us"
> 
> FULL DISCLOSURE: I have every intention of attempting to publish the full work at some point (which will also be fully uploaded to AO3 as soon as our names go live). This version will continue to exist on AO3 so it can be your choice whether or not you want to buy it. No pressure! :)


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